


False Pretences

by acesdesire



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff, M/M, Romance, masquerading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26999914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesdesire/pseuds/acesdesire
Summary: When Noctis hears of an upcoming ball at the Citadel, there is nothing he would like more than to bring Prompto along with him. The only problem is whether or not Prompto will be deemed worthy of a prince's love. Will Noctis' plan impress the crowd or leave Prompto feeling broken? (Written for the 2020 Promptis Big Bang).
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 13
Kudos: 54
Collections: Promptis Big Bang 2020





	False Pretences

“Hoo, yeah! I beat you again!” Prompto cheered, shoving his fists up in the air, one of them gripping the game controller so tightly, his knuckles were white. Noctis tossed his own controller to the floor and rolled his eyes, leaning back on his hands as he sat cross-legged.

“Yeah, because I _let_ you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Prompto sang, setting his controller down on his lap, and turning to grin at his best friend. Noctis dragged his gaze away from the chocobo racers on the screen and reluctantly focused on Prompto, trying to maintain his exaggerated annoyance. It was hard not to smile when Prompto leaned his head in so close to his face.

“But it’s okay, buddy. I’m sure you’ll do _kweh_ -tter next time.”

“Buzz off,” Noct huffed, waving a hand towards him, but Prompto simply grinned wider; he had made a genuine smile appear on the prince’s face, the kind that made Prompto feel like someone had wrapped his heart in a blanket, keeping it safe and cozy.

“Wanna play again?” Prompto asked, readjusting himself, and giving Noctis his personal space back. Noctis stared at him a moment, taking in the sight of his rosy cheeks, flushed from the laughter and excitement of the videogame. He admired those bright eyes and cheery smile that had brought light into his life ever since they had started hanging out together.  
  
Noctis had never forgotten how timid Prompto had been the first time he had invited him to his apartment, how he had seemed totally lost when it came to what he should do in someone else’s home. He’d never been invited to a friend’s place before, so he had worried about every little thing—asking Noctis where he should leave his shoes, where he should sit, how many chips he should eat out of the bowl when Noctis had grinned and said ‘help yourself’. Now, however, he seemed so comfortable and at ease. Noctis was glad he’d been able to give him a place where he actually felt welcome, wanted, at home.

“What? Something wrong?” Prompto asked, smile slipping into a look of worry when he saw the contemplative expression on Noct’s face. Noctis gave a little shake of his head and tentatively leaned forward, closing the distance between their faces. Prompto locked gazes with him for a second or more for confirmation before he let his eyes fall closed, meeting Noctis’ lips partway.  
  
Their first kiss had happened under similar circumstances, shared in the quiet downtime between videogame stages, slow and careful and uncertain. There had been nervous meetings of eyes, and clumsy brushes of lips, but it had confirmed for both of them that they had been experiencing the same feelings for one another for a while.

The current kiss ended much less peacefully than their first, as Noctis’ phone vibrated on the coffee table, startling them out of the connection. Prompto pulled back with an awkward chuckle as Noct reached for the phone, irritated by how rudely it had interrupted them. Noctis clicked to see the message that had caused the disturbance and sighed.

“What is it?”

“My advisor is coming over to clean my apartment. Is it okay if we call it a day?” Noct asked, shutting the phone off and setting it back on the table. He glanced at Prompto with a look of apology.

“Sure, I’ve got some studying to do anyway.” Prompto got to his feet and smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothing.  
  
Noctis watched him carefully, recognizing that normally, Prompto would have teased him about being too lazy to clean his own damn apartment, but there was something in his eyes now—some subtle hint of sadness or hurt. Noct hated to think of emotions like those burying themselves inside Prompto, especially if he was the one who had caused them.

“So... can I ask you something?” Prompto asked, meekly, before Noctis got the chance to speak again.

“Of course.”

“Are you embarrassed of me?” Prompto’s gaze was on the floor now. One of his hands rose to his opposite arm, clutching it so tightly it actually appeared painful.

“What? No, why?” Noctis shook his head.  
  
“Well... It, uh... It just seems like whenever your Crownsguard pay you a visit, you kind of ask me to leave.” Prompto shifted nervously where he stood, while Noctis stared up at him with soft surprise and barely-disguised regret. “I mean, I get it if you are. Embarrassed. I’m not exactly someone you’d expect a prince to date.”

“I’m not _embarrassed_ of you,” Noctis retorted, scrambling up from his position on the floor to get himself at eye level.

“Okay,” Prompto nodded, meeting his gaze. He gave a weak smile, wanting with all his heart to believe his companion. “I just noticed, you know? I’m never here when Gladio comes by to do a security check on your apartment, or when Ignis comes to prepare meals or do laundry...”

Noctis hesitated, heart throbbing at the idea that Prompto could remember his Crownsguard by name, when they didn’t so much as know of Prompto’s existence. It wasn’t fair, and yet, Noctis was terrified of ruining this thing they had. This thing, where he had Prompto all to himself, to make memories with, to laugh with, to love. This thing, that no one back at the Citadel had to know about. This thing, their own lovely little secret.  
  
Everything between them was so new, and Noctis was still figuring it all out for himself—finding out who he was as an individual, and who he was with Prompto. He didn’t want to involve those at the Citadel when he wasn’t sure whether a courtship with Prompto would meet the Crown’s approval, or whether it would be allowed at all. He wasn’t ready for this newfound love, delicate as sylleblossoms sparkling with morning dew, to be brushed aside or crushed so soon.

“It’s... not like I want to hide you or anything,” Noctis said, folding his arms. Prompto told himself he was reading too much into Noct’s body language, but his words and posture were telling him two different stories.  
  
Noctis caught the tiny look of hurt in Prompto’s eyes, as it grew just the slightest bit, the spark igniting into a small flame. Prompto blinked, but forced a smile and took a step back.

“Well, I should get going.”

“What about your game?” Noct asked, glancing down at the retro chocobo racing game that sat sticking out of the top of the old console. His gaze flickered urgently back up to Prompto, who had already made it to the kitchen.

“You can borrow it for a while, if you want,” he called, as he proceeded into the long, narrow entryway and began tugging on his boots, lacing them up as quickly as possible.

Noctis followed him, legs dragging, heavy with guilt. He watched as Prompto finished with his boots and grabbed his coat off the coat rack, tugging it on over his bare shoulders. Noctis reached for the scarf still draped over the hanger. He took a chance and looped it around Prompto’s neck. Prompto’s curious gaze wandered to his prince. The woolen, striped garment presented him with a sense of comfort—its warmth, its mild cologne-like smell, the fact that it belonged to his beloved Noctis—but there was still something stirring within him, something unsettling.

“You don’t have to go,” Noct said, with a gentle tilt of his head. He tugged the scarf lightly, pulling Prompto a step closer, lowering his head in a seductive little stare that he hoped might at least get him a goodbye kiss. Perhaps, at the moment, he didn’t deserve it.  
  
“It’s okay. I really do have to study. I’ll see you at school?”

“It’s... the weekend? Aren’t we gonna hit up the arcade, or something?” Noctis reminded him, the corner of his mouth lifting into a soft, amused smile.  
  
“O-oh, right. Yeah. I’ll see you... tomorrow then. Or Monday. Whenever’s convenient for you,” Prompto said, giving Noct one last bashful smile before backing up and heading for the door, pulling the ends of the scarf out of Noct’s grasp.  
  
Noctis watched him disappear behind the closing door, and let out a sigh, hoping that Ignis would do one hell of a job on his apartment to make the ache in his chest worth it.

* * *

“You alright, Noct? You seem rather quiet,” Ignis observed, his gloved hands picking up the discarded chip bags from the living room floor. Food wrappers seemed to be more plentiful around the apartment these days. From the way it appeared Noctis was eating, it was a wonder he wasn’t putting on more weight.  
  
Noctis tapped his pencil against his forehead as he stared blankly down at his history book.

“As opposed to my usual chipper self?” he quipped.  
  
Ignis gave him a suspicious look before he tossed the chip wrappers into the garbage bag he was carrying. He gave the room a once-over, making sure he hadn’t missed anything. His eyes landed on the entertainment unit, where a console and two controllers were neatly tucked away. At least Noctis kept _some things_ tidy on his own—the things that mattered most, Ignis supposed.

“Edgy as well, are we?”

“This homework’s just driving me nuts, okay?” Noct grimaced, tossing the pencil down. It rolled into the middle of the book and stuck in the crevice between the pages. Noctis scowled at the photos in his book—portraits of the previous kings and queens of Lucis with their regal attire and arrogant faces—knowing he would never fit into their mould, even if he’d wanted to.

“Well, let’s take a short break from that, shall we? Give your mind a rest. I’ve something else to discuss with you anyway,” Ignis said.  
  
He disposed of his dirty gloves, washed his hands, and poured Noctis a glass of juice from the fridge, setting it down on the kitchen table beside the dreaded history book. Noctis gave a nod of thanks and took a sip as Ignis came to stand in front of him, on the opposite side of the table.

“As you already know, there is a royal ball coming up. Given the current feud between the nations, the hope is that the event will settle some of the turmoil. Several nobles will be attending, many of which include young women close to your age. You will be expected to make an appearance and mingle with them, leaving yourself open to the possibility of a courtship.”

“A c-courtship?” Noctis coughed out, the last mouthful of juice burning the back of his throat.

“Well, you _are_ at an age where you should at least _start_ considering these things,” Ignis said, with a small wave of his hand.  
  
“And by _mingle_ , you mean—”  
  
“Dance. You remember those steps I taught you last year?”

Noctis frowned, his eyes nowhere near Ignis’ now.

“We can go over them again. Not to worry,” Ignis promised him.  
  
Noctis merely shook his head in disbelief. Dance steps were the least of his worries. What was Prompto going to think of him dancing with a dozen noble women? What was he going to think of him when he told him he was too scared to object to his father’s wishes? Too scared to tell him the truth?  
  
“And what if I don’t want to go?”

“Your presence is mandatory, I’m afraid,” Ignis sympathized.  
  
Noctis continued to pout, eyes boring a hole in the table. He could feel heat rising to his cheeks at the mere idea of asking his next question, but what if it could solve everything? What if it would make Prompto happy while appeasing the king and nobles as well?

“So... what if, hypothetically, there was someone from school that I wanted to invite. Would... would that be okay?” Noctis stuttered out, all princely eloquence completely gone.  
  
“Oh, someone at school strike your fancy?” Ignis raised a brow, smile tinged with intrigue.  
  
Noctis gave a bashful shrug, still not meeting his gaze.  
  
“Well, I’m sure that a relationship with a noble would be preferred, but your father did marry a childhood friend, so I’m inclined to say that inviting a schoolmate would be... acceptable,” Ignis announced.

 _Acceptable._ Was that good enough, Noctis wondered? Silently, he picked up his pencil again and returned to his history book, finding it the least offensive of his current poisons. Ignis’ brows narrowed as he lost his liege’s attention, wondering what could have him wound so tight. His gaze wandered down to the book, where Noctis was reading a description under one of the portraits, the tip of his eraser moving against the page to help him keep his place.  
  
“Shall I help you study for a bit?”  
  
“Nope. I got it,” Noctis mumbled, never bothering to look up as Ignis nodded and returned to his cleaning.

* * *

A solution came to Noctis sometime in the night, when sleep refused to take him for more than twenty minutes at a time. After much lamenting, he’d come to the conclusion that he _didn’t_ have to keep Prompto a secret, so long as he introduced him the right way. The diplomats that Noctis knew were all about appearances, and if Prompto _appeared_ _appropriate_ for a prince, it might just be enough for everyone to accept him into the fold. And so, once morning came, he showered and gulped down a quick breakfast before grabbing a cab to Prompto’s house. He became more antsy as the car pulled up along Prompto’s street, knowing he had to address this matter with Prompto himself just as meticulously as he had to with everyone else.  
  
After giving the driver his fee with a decent tip, he proceeded through the open gate, the nearby greenery filling the air with a satisfying freshness as he headed for the front door. He knocked a few times before Prompto appeared before him, dressed in a loose hoodie and slacks.

“Uh, h-hey, what are you doing here?”

“I was wondering if we could talk. Is it okay if I come in?”

Prompto closed his mouth that was hanging slightly open in surprise before he nodded and took a step back, allowing Noctis to enter. They proceeded into the adjoined kitchen and living area, and Prompto proceeded to the sofa, Noctis following close behind. They sat side-by-side, and Prompto dared a glance at the briefcase on Noct’s lap, wondering if he had a study date planned for them in addition to whatever this ‘talk’ included.

“So, what’s up?” Prompto asked, stuffing his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, slumping a little against the back of the couch.

“Well, I... Huh,” Noct said, with a small, humourless chuckle. Prompto watched him, his worry increasing as he saw the way Noctis’ hands curled tightly around his knees, clutching like he was scared out of his mind. He’d seen him in a similar state the day he’d asked him out on their first ‘real’ date.  
  
“See, there’s this ball coming up at the Citadel. I’m supposed to dance with all these nobles. Apparently, the council is hoping I’ll be interested in one of them and pursue some kind of relationship, but... I want _you_ to come,” Noctis said, head slowly turning sideways so he could meet Prompto’s eyes—wide, wide eyes, that made Prompto look like he’d swallowed a bug.

“I mean, no pressure, if you don’t want to,” Noctis quickly added, with a shy duck of his head. Timidly, he folded his arms, holding them tight against his body.  
  
“I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. Am I even _allowed_ in the Citadel?” Prompto’s hands curled together in the pocket of his hoodie, fingers working against each other in nervous, repetitive motions.  
  
“I asked Ignis if I could _hypothetically_ invite someone from school, and he said it would be okay.”

Prompto hesitated a moment longer, staring blankly at the coffee table before them.

“Yeah, but, won’t everyone be expecting you to show up with, like, you know... a girl? Someone who might help you continue the Lucian royal line, and all that?” There was a hint of teasing in his voice now, which at least lessened Noctis’ tension a little.

“Well, yeah, but royal heirs aside, I have a plan that’ll make you impress everyone. If you’re up for it.”  
  
Prompto turned his head, finally making eye contact with Noctis. Still cautious, he pried, “What did you have in mind?”  
  
Noctis gave a transient smile before opening his briefcase, revealing a magazine with a glossy cover, featuring a stylish-looking man in the most elegant-looking formal wear Prompto had ever seen.

“We dress you up as a prince,” Noct suggested, pointing to the magazine. “Or, a noble I guess. Everyone already knows the other nations don’t have a prince, but... We could make something up for you.” Noctis opened the magazine and flipped through a few pages.  
  
He stopped when he came to a black suit jacket. It was adorned with gold shoulder tassles, gold buttons and cuffs, and accented by a pair of tight white slacks. The model wore a white dress shirt underneath.

“You could be Sir Prompto of Accordo, one of the wealthiest men on the continent,” Noct said, projecting his voice like an announcer. “Or Sir Prompto of Tenebrae, descendant of those who served House Fleuret centuries ago. Something like that.”

“So... we’d be lying?” Prompto asked, and Noctis was dismayed by his reaction; he could have sworn poor Prompto had sunk another inch into the couch cushions.  
  
“W-well, just until we get my dad’s attention.”  
  
“And, you think that would make him give me a chance?” Prompto hesitated, his focus solely on the magazine in Noctis’ hands. He tried to imagine himself as the model in the magazine, who held his head up high, a hand placed confidently against the buttons of his elegant suit jacket. The man looked so composed, so self-assured—nothing like Prompto himself.

To pretend he was something he wasn’t felt so wrong, so unnatural. He almost wanted to go so far as to say it was unfair, but he was used to life being unfair to him. Then again, he couldn’t complain, because life had also given him Noctis, and he absolutely didn’t want to lose him.  
  
If Noctis thought this was the best way to introduce him to his father, and if this gave them the best chance of staying together, then Prompto would take it. He didn’t want to lose this dorky, thoughtful, caring boy who had made him feel loved for the first time in his life. He didn’t want to lose the first and only friend he had ever made.

“Um, do these come in any other colours?” Prompto asked, and Noctis perked up a little, hoping that meant that Prompto was on board.

“Uh, y-yeah. See these little boxes? These show all of the available colours,” Noctis replied. He pointed to the small, coloured squares next to one of the suits. Black, dark grey, navy, crimson, royal blue...

“And I can pick any one I want?” Prompto’s voice was still coming out small and cautious.

“Yeah. Totally your choice.”

Prompto’s lips curved into a brief smile. His choice. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him a choice, other than his parents leaving him money to buy fast food from whichever burger joint he preferred. This felt like a whole different level. His own style, his own colour... Noctis was not only allowing him to make his own decision, but he was actually _encouraging_ it. He _respected_ and _valued_ it.

Prompto carefully reached out for the page corner and turned it over, scanning the next few items in the book. Noctis watched him fondly, the way he seemed completely absorbed in this new opportunity.

“You can hang on to this for a few days if you want. Take your time to look through it,” Noct offered. Prompto seemed content with the answer, eyes continuing to scan the page. His finger traced carefully over the wordy descriptions of one of the suits before coming to a dead halt. His head snapped towards Noctis, expression full of fear and disbelief.

“ _That’s_ how much a suit like this costs?! Noct, I-I’m sorry, but I can’t afford that,” Prompto panicked, finger trembling against the five-digit number in bold text. Noct’s hand was on his own a second later, holding it still, settling it.

“I’m paying for it, dummy. I have to pick, like, ten suits a year out of this thing, and we’ve already got an account set up with the company. No one would ever notice an extra transaction.”

“Noct, I can’t let you do that—“

“Hey,” Noct murmured, catching Prompto’s panicked gaze. He squeezed Prompto’s hand gently within his grasp, the corner of his mouth lifting into a crooked smile. “Don’t worry about it, okay? I want you at the ball. This is a small price to pay for that.”

* * *

It took Prompto five whole days to pick out an outfit. By the time he gave the catalogue back to Noctis, it was slightly dog-eared—for which Prompto apologized profusely. It had taken him a while to decide which coat would complement his form the best, which cuffs would be most likely to cover the barcode on his wrist, and which breeches would be slim-fitting yet comfortable. And then, of course, there was the matter of choosing a colour.  
  
Blacks and greys felt too drab for Prompto, and he didn’t want to cramp Noctis’ style either. There was always the possibility that he might choose something that Noctis already had in his own closet. Besides, if he was going to impress the crowd, he figured he would need something bold, something to make him stand out against long, sparkling evening gowns and colorful, puffy dresses.

Once he was ninety-nine percent sure of his selection, he allowed Noctis to make the order, and was then forced to play the waiting game until it arrived. It was a good thing he had other games to distract him—videogames with Noctis, to be specific. It was a lazy Friday afternoon, and Prompto had cut his last class since Noctis had a free period, preferring to spend those valuable hours in biology with his best friend instead.

“Oh yeah, I choco- _beat_ you again!” Prompto laughed, leaning over so far with his controller, he was practically in Noctis’ line of view.

“Yeah, because half the screen is taken up by your choco-butt hair!” Noct growled, tossing his controller aside, and tackling Prompto, knocking his controller out of his hand as well. Prompto squawked as he was pushed flat-out onto the floor. He kicked his legs helplessly as Noctis pinned his wrists down; the prince grinned all the while.

“Admit that you cheated.”

“I do not cheat!” Prompto pouted, shaking his head, defiantly.

“Admit you were so far over in my personal space, I had no chance of winning.”

“Who’s violating personal space now?” Prompto muttered, only to see Noctis’ face light up with a deviant smirk. Prompto shrieked with laughter as Noctis released one of his wrists, fingers digging into his side instead.

“No tickling, you jerk! Cut it out!” Prompto laughed wildly, while Noctis chuckled along with him. Noctis’ hand poked relentlessly at his sides, and Prompto somehow managed to squirm his other wrist free, grabbing the back of Noct’s neck.

“Truce, please!” Prompto called out, before lifting himself up to press his lips to Noctis’.  
  
The surprise ‘attack’ rendered Noct useless, making him cease the senseless tickling. He simply closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the kiss instead. Those times when Prompto was brave enough to initiate contact were rare and beautiful, and he would be damned if he stopped this moment too soon.  
  
He blinked hazily when Prompto finally pulled away, expression calm and serene. Prompto smiled proudly as he let his head fall back down to the floor, and gazed up at his contented prince. Noctis smiled before lowering himself to capture his mouth again, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. Both jumped, eyes wide. Noctis clambered off of him quicker than their virtual chocobos had crossed the finish line. He scrambled to his feet and glanced around the apartment.

“My closet. Come on,” Noct instructed, grabbing Prompto’s wrist again and leading him towards the bedroom. “Stay here. I’ll make them go away.”

Noct waved an arm toward the closet before swiftly exiting the bedroom, tugging the door closed behind him.  
  
Prompto tried to think through the haze. He felt like the past few seconds had given him whiplash; he’d gone from the only thing on Noctis’ mind to the thing he wanted gone from sight. Prompto tried to remind himself that it was for the best, that he would get his chance to prove himself at the ball, and that everything would be fine. He pulled open the closet doors and slowly stepped inside, closing them again as he huddled in against the numerous hangers of Noct’s clothes. Sure, princes _always_ had to hide their friends from visitors, right?  
  
When Noctis returned to the bedroom at least five minutes later, Prompto felt thoroughly dejected, though he tried not to show it—even as Noctis opened the closet doors and he stepped out of his prison, abashed and ashamed.

“Sorry about that. It was Ignis. Good news, though. He was delivering your suit,” Noct said, offering Prompto the large, black, cardboard box, all done up in satiny ribbon. Prompto hesitated, blinking as he took it from him with clammy hands and silently set it down on the bed, unable to meet Noct’s gaze at the moment.  
  
Carefully, he untied the ribbon and lifted the cover off of the box. White tissue paper covered the apparel, and Prompto had to lift layers of it out of the way to even _find_ the outfit. He’d never worn anything that came in packaging like this. He was lucky if his parents remembered to send him money for new clothes at all.

“Looks nice,” Noct smiled, as Prompto lifted the suit jacket out of the box. He held it out in front of him, analyzing it.  
  
It was a vibrant, royal blue, even more stunning in real life than it had been in the magazine, with ivory buttons and white shoulder tassles. Its rounded coat-tails looked like they would come down to Prompto’s knees. Prompto stared at it numbly, still not finding his voice anywhere. He set the coat down on the bed and reached into the box again, retrieving the white dress shirt with subtle frills along the line of buttons, and the white breeches to match.  
  
He supposed there was a slim chance he might impress Noctis once he was all gussied up in his formal wear, but as for everyone else... He didn’t feel like he could fool anyone, not with self-esteem as low as his. Every model in that catalogue had had an air of confidence. Noctis did, too, whenever he was in the public eye. Prompto, not so much.

“Is it okay? Do you not like it?” Noct tried, noticing the solemnness that had seemed to take over Prompto’s whole body. He peered around the clothing, trying to catch Prompto’s eye, but to no avail.

“No, it all looks great,” Prompto said, setting the dress shirt and pants back into the box.

“Well, why don’t you try it on?”  
  
“Uh, actually, I’m not feeling the best right now. Wouldn’t want to risk making a mess of my first princely suit.”

“Oh, o-okay,” Noct fumbled, watching with concern now. Prompto did look flushed. His hands might have even been trembling a little at his sides. “You alright?”

Noct reached out for his forehead, letting the back of his hand rest there, even when Prompto recoiled a little, like the caring touch was something he didn’t feel he deserved. Maybe that was the cause of the heat in his face—heat that would have put the Infernian to shame.

“Prompto, if this is about before, I’m sorry about the whole ‘shoving-you-into-a-closet’ thing. I just... I want people to be blown away when they meet you at the ball. Don’t want to spoil the surprise, you know?” Noct tried, brows twisting into a look of apology. This time, Prompto pulled away from the touch completely, watching Noct with what actually looked like fear in his eyes.

“I-it’s not that. I... I think I should head home.” He backed up with slow, careful steps before turning and heading out through the apartment, making his way to the entrance where he reached for his boots. Noctis had kept up with him without trouble, remaining at his heels the whole time.

“Prom, if you’re sick, maybe you should stay here where I can take care of you. I mean, I can’t do homemade soup, but I can make some damn good Cup Noodles,” Noct shrugged, giving Prompto a small smirk as he looked up from lacing his boots.

“Nah, I know it’s dumb, but I’d rather you _didn’t_ see me with my head in a toilet,” Prompto said, too defeated to reciprocate any sort of smile.

“I wouldn’t care,” Noct promised, with a weak laugh, but Prompto simply shook his head; he wasn’t sure he believed him.

Honestly, he’d literally had his head in a toilet once, thanks to some jerks at his school, and he was starting to think he might have preferred that to being stuffed into Noct’s closet, like some dirty magazine Noct was embarrassed to admit he had. Noctis was supposed to be the one who cared for him; how could he somehow be worse than those schoolyard bullies?

“It’s not personal, ‘kay?” Prompto shrugged, reaching for his jacket next, and shoving his arms through the sleeves, forgetting he’d stuffed Noctis’ scarf into the left one for safe keeping.  
  
It fell to the floor, and Noctis picked it up, affectionately looping it around Prompto’s neck like he’d done a few weeks ago. Prompto ducked his head backwards as his boyfriend leaned in, but Noct simply pressed a kiss to his forehead, knowing Prompto would whine about potentially being contagious if he tried for his mouth.

“Feel better, alright? Text me if you need me to come over.”

“Yeah,” Prompto nodded, the skin under Noctis’ soft lips burning even hotter than the rest of his face now.  
  
He almost wanted to let the contact linger, but it was probably better to make a run for it. He really did feel like he might throw his guts up before this day was over, and he’d rather not do that in the prince’s apartment. Besides, if he was ever going to pull off this royal façade, then he needed to get home and start convincing himself that he could do it.

* * *

For three days, Prompto continued to feign sick, needing some time away from Noctis to reflect on all that had happened. It still hurt to know he was something that Noctis had hid—from his friends, from his father, from everyone involved with his life as a royal—but he tried to remind himself of the plan. The whole point was to present him to the world of royalty in a way that would ensure that Noctis could keep him by his side. And he _wanted_ to stay by Noct’s side, more than anything, so he decided to whip himself into shape, hoping he would be calm, cool, and collected enough to at least _appear_ to be someone fit for a prince.

During those days on his own, Prompto reverted to his old ‘make-myself-good-enough-for-Noct’ routine, eating nothing but salads, and running every morning. He spent more time on his appearance, making sure to moisturize his face twice a day, and try some new hairstyles from trendy websites. He wanted to think he looked better—thoroughly kempt, thin, stylish—but with the ball only three days away, he was still miles from the noble he wanted to be.

Even now, as he stood in Noctis’ bedroom in front of the full-length mirror, dressed in the royal blue suit jacket and white breeches, he didn’t think he looked anywhere near as regal as Noctis did when he was all dressed up. He used to watch the Lucian prince on the news before they were friends; Prompto could remember being slumped forward over a cup of noodles, eyes fixed on the television. His jaw would drop, his chopsticks hovering partway between the cup and his mouth as he admired how stunning the prince was—with his shimmering wisps of black hair; fair skin contrasting against black fabric; the gold accents of his uniform reflecting in his grey eyes; his confident, yet stoic demeanour as he stood alongside his equally regal father.

“Ouch!” Prompto squeaked, feeling a sharp pinprick against his wrist, bringing him back to reality.

“Sorry,” Noct mumbled, clutching another sewing pin tightly between his lips.  
  
Prompto glanced down to where he was kneeling beside him, hands fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. The fabric was rolled up and pinned in place, almost ready to be hemmed. Of course, Prompto hadn’t been quite big enough to fit properly into the suit, his hands half-covered by sleeves when he had first tried on the garment.

“You almost done? I’m getting pretty warm in here,” Prompto groaned, the layers of clothing sending waves of heat through him; it was only worsened by his nerves. He shook his free arm restlessly, fanning himself. Noctis gave him a scolding glance, making him stop his action before the pins went flying from the already adjusted sleeve.

“You sure it’s not your fever?” Noct quizzed.

“No, dude. I told you, my fever broke over forty-eight hours ago,” Prompto said, feeling only a little guilty that Noctis had bought that lie about him being sick that day when his suit had arrived.

“Alright, alright. I’m almost done.” Noct reached for the pin between his teeth, holding the rolled sleeve tightly within his fingertips and weaving the pin through the fabric.  
  
“N-not too high, okay?” Prompto reminded him, voice hoarse as he glanced down at the wrist clutched between Noct’s hands. Tenderly, Noct brushed a thumb over the striped sweatband covering his skin.

“You’re fine. No one’s going to see it,” he promised, knowing Prompto was referring to the lines of black ink concealed beneath that cloth band. He glanced up to give Prompto an encouraging smile, but Prompto looked about as sickly as he did a few nights ago.  
  
“Can you imagine if anyone did? Huh, they’d probably exile me on the spot,” he said, weakly. “Or worse.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Noctis frowned, hand slipping down over the sweatband to lightly grasp Prompto’s fingers instead. He swung their hands gently back and forth, still watching Prompto with worry.  
  
“The goal of the ball is to settle some of the turmoil between the nations, remember? Besides, my dad wouldn’t exile you just because you’re from Niflheim. He... he would never do that,” Noct went on, feeling a flutter in his heart, wanting to keep faith in his father, despite a nagging fear that Regis could prove him otherwise.

“Yeah,” Prompto breathed. “Hope you’re right.”

Noctis got to his feet immediately after, and came to stand in front of Prompto, reaching for the buttons of his jacket. He undid them carefully, freeing his companion from his prison of formal wear.

“This really does look good on you,” he smiled.

“Thanks,” Prompto mumbled, eyes darting nervously sideways. As relieved as he thought he would be to get out of that coat, he still felt like he might combust even after Noctis slipped it off of his shoulders. He was a fraud, a liar, an _enemy_ of Noct’s very kingdom. Wasn’t he?

“Prompto... If you don’t like the suit, just tell me, okay? You can borrow one of the suits in my closet instead, if you want,” Noct offered, hands coming to rest on Prompto’s shoulders, rubbing small circles there with his thumbs.  
  
Prompto lowered his head, embarrassed. Noct was being so kind, paying for a suit all his own, and offering him one out of his own closet when he thought it wasn’t to Prompto’s liking. He was going to such great lengths to make this work; Prompto had to at least _try_ and play along with a smile.

“No, I _love_ the suit, Noct,” Prompto assured him, the corners of his lips curving upward with a small push. Noctis continued to watch him carefully, eyes uncertain. The flutter in his stomach returned as the fear crept in—the fear that he was going about this whole thing the wrong way. It made him feel feverish himself.  
  
Noctis could understand why Prompto might feel slighted; when he thought about it, there was no reason why Prompto _shouldn’t_ feel slighted. He had kept him a secret from his friends and family, shoved him into a closet to hide him, and was now dressing him up as something he wasn’t so that he might be deemed ‘worthy’ of a prince’s love and devotion. Yeah, if that wasn’t a slap in the face, Noctis didn’t know what was. He wanted to scrap the whole thing right then and there, only Prompto spoke up.  
  
“I’m just a little nervous to meet everyone, that’s all.”

“That’s all? You’re sure?” Noct quizzed, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Yeah,” Prompto nodded, emphatically. “I mean, it’s scary, you know? I’ve never been to a royal event in my life, but... I want to be with you, Noct. If this is the best way for us to stay together, then I’m in, okay?”

Noctis smiled, his hands curling into the collar of Prompto’s white dress shirt. He was grateful for those endearing words, for the reassurance that Prompto wanted him in his life, no matter what they had to do to get there. He hoped with all his heart that this plan would work, that everyone would be stunned by Prompto’s style and grace when he arrived at the ball, that his father would accept Prompto with open arms. One night. That was all they needed, then he would never have to put Prompto through such a masquerade again.  
  
“Okay,” Noctis agreed, thanking him with a kiss.

* * *

Prompto couldn’t remember feeling so sick in his life. He’d been too nervous to eat anything, and so his stomach had spited him with pangs of hunger. Plus, there was the motion sickness that came with clinging to Noct as they warped up the side of the Citadel to avoid the guards. The two combined made him _completely_ unsure of how his stomach was avoiding turning inside out.  
  
At least now he was in the safety of Noct’s room, but he still didn’t feel much better. He sat completely still on the bed—the velvet-covered four-poster that was a shocking contrast to the unremarkable bed in Noct’s apartment. He slowly scanned the intricately painted ceiling, the crystal chandelier, the golden accents on the furniture, and suddenly felt ashamed that he had ever invited Noctis into his own mundane little home. They weren’t in the Lucis Prompto knew anymore; of that much, he was sure.  
  
Prompto’s gaze wandered to the floor as he tried to convince himself he wasn’t about to lose his breakfast. Noctis stood fixing his dishevelled hair in the mirror, but when he caught sight of Prompto behind him, he stepped away, and came to kneel in front of his friend. Prompto’s complexion was pale and clammy, reminiscent of the lightly-coloured skin of a Catoblepas, still damp from a morning swim.  
  
“Hey, you okay? I know warping can be a little dizzying sometimes,” Noct sympathized, reaching for Prompto’s knee, and rubbing it tenderly. Prompto drew his eyes to the prince, hoping the quick movement of his eyes wouldn’t worsen the nausea. Noctis’ features were twinging with worry, the corner of his mouth wanting to force a smile, but couldn’t quite manage.

“I-I’m okay,” Prompto replied, voice shaky.

“Here,” Noctis said anyway, hurrying over to the backpack he’d gathered from his apartment. He retrieved a water bottle from it and rushed back to sit on the bed, twisting off the plastic cap before bringing the bottle to Prompto’s lips.

“Drink? You might feel better.”

Prompto nodded meekly, and Noctis eased a hand behind his back, supporting Prompto’s weak form as he took a couple of mouthfuls of the liquid. The water was cool and refreshing, despite being in the backpack for at least an hour, and Prompto uttered a thank you as Noct lowered the bottle. Noctis set it down on the floor beside him, and continued to rub Prompto’s back. His gaze lingered on the man beside him, even when the eye contact was not returned.

“Do you think it was the warping? Or are you nervous?”  
  
“Probably just the warp,” Prompto fibbed. Noctis discreetly glanced down at his watch, not wanting to make Prompto any more unsettled than he already was, but he quickly discovered that time was of the essence.  
  
“Okay, so, I’ve got to be downstairs in twenty minutes. I’ll change into my suit, and then I’ll help you get into yours, alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Prompto agreed, but his usual enthusiasm was simply gone.  
  
Noctis gave his back a gentle pat before he got up and grabbed the suit off of the bed; Ignis had laid it out for him before he’d made his secret trek across town to collect Prompto. He hurried into the ensuite bathroom and Prompto patted his face, trying to pull himself together. He reached for the water bottle on the floor and fished his stomach medication out of his pant pocket. He swallowed one of the pills and downed another mouthful of water before forcing himself to his feet. He hoped his stomach would hold out until he got home again.  
  
Prompto glanced at the remaining suit on the bed: the bright blue jacket and white trousers, and the pair of tall black boots that Noctis was lending him. The boots completed the ensemble, which now reminded Prompto of the elegant outfits chocobo riders wore for jumping events. Prompto used to dream of being a chocobo rider, reaching the top of the ranks, and making Lucis proud. If he could pull off that look in his dreams, he could pull it off now. Yes, that idea might just be enough to get him through this.

After double-checking that the door leading to the hallway was securely locked, Prompto stripped out of his casual clothes and into his dress shirt and breeches. He quickly retrieved his own backpack from where he’d dumped it on the floor, and proceeded to the full-length mirror. He scanned the hems of his sleeves, making sure his barcode wasn’t visible no matter which way he held his arms, and analyzing the stitching to make sure Noctis’ handiwork would hold up for the evening. After that, Prompto dug out his supplies, and began styling his hair, combing the front up into the stylish swoop that he’d practiced at home, and securing it with a sizable amount of hairspray. Prompto saw Noct’s reflection as he exited the bathroom—the way his jaw dropped upon seeing him, the way his lips curled into a sultry smile immediately afterwards.

“Well, don’t _you_ look _dashing_ ,” he announced, coming to stand behind Prompto, his arms lacing around his middle. Prompto couldn’t help but smirk back.

“Dashing. Is that royal lingo for _hot_?”  
  
“Maybe,” Noctis breathed, pressing a kiss to Prompto’s ear, tickling him. Prompto raised his shoulder, his defensive reflexes kicking in, and Noct backed off, leaving both of them chuckling softly.  
  
“Ready for your jacket?” Noct asked.  
  
“Uh-huh.”

The prince grabbed the blue garment from the bed and returned to Prompto, guiding his arms into the sleeves. Prompto continued to watch himself in the mirror, hoping that by the time he finished buttoning up his jacket, he might look as if he had come from the same world as Noct. But side-by-side, with Noct in his regal black and gold, and him in his probably-too-bright blue... he didn’t feel he even compared.

“You look amazing, Prompto,” Noct smiled, warmly, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“I hope so.”

“You do. Now, let’s go over this one more time.”  
  
Noctis grabbed something off of his desk, and pressed it into Prompto’s hand. Prompto looked down at the small gold-bordered ticket in his hand, finding his new name for the evening scrawled onto the ticket in shimmering, swirling font.  
  
“Remember, you’re Viscount Narius of Tenebrae, descendent of former Viscount Neci Narius.”

“Are these even real people?” Prompto dared to ask. Whoever had first described the feeling of nausea as _butterflies_ obviously hadn’t felt the level of worry Prompto was experiencing now; this was more like _killer bees_ in his stomach.

“No, I made them up, but no one else needs to know that. Given the political state of things, I’m guessing Luna will be the only one who _might_ know he’s not real. She _should_ be the only one attending from Tenebrae,” Noct explained.

“Right,” Prompto replied, numbly. His throat was so parched, it was hard to believe he’d had that water only ten short minutes ago.

“Hey, no one is going to ask you about it, okay? All you need to do is head down to the ballroom, like I showed you on the map before, and give this ticket to the guard at the door. He’ll announce your name, you’ll come inside, and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing to dance with you.”

“Yeah, sounds simple enough in theory,” Prompto said, smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles in his jacket.

“It’ll be fine.” Noct gave him a pat on the shoulder. He wished he’d sounded more confident.  
  
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Prompto’s cheek, hand trailing down his arm until it reached his fingers. He grasped them gently as he took a step back, and he looked into Prompto’s eyes, hoping he had taken at least a little of the fear away. Prompto still looked unsettled, but he managed a weak smile.  
  
“I’ll see you downstairs in a few?” Noct asked.

“Yeah.”

Slowly, Noct pulled away, their fingers touching until the last possible second. Prompto was given one last encouraging smile before the prince slipped out of the room. Prompto stared into the mirror again, clearing his throat and raising his head up like the men he’d seen in the catalogue Noct had lent him. He could pretend to be confident, at least for a little while, right?  
  
He thought back to the day when Noctis had shoved him into his closet to hide him from his retainer. He never wanted to feel so degraded again, never wanted to be something Noctis was so ashamed of he felt he had to hide him from others. He clutched the ticket in his hand. He could do this. If he wanted Noctis badly enough, he could do this.

* * *

Only thirty minutes in, and already, Noctis had a headache. The music of a violinist and pianist duo echoed throughout the hall, accompanied by the chatter of royalty and nobles alike. It wasn’t so much the noise causing the headache as it was the tension in Noct’s jaw; he had it clenched so hard, he was afraid it might crack if he tried to open his mouth. Thirty minutes, and Prompto still hadn’t appeared. Had he gotten lost? Had he backed out?

“Prince Noctis?” Noct’s current dance partner asked, as she peered at the man before her. He had been staring at the door since they had begun their dance, as if waiting for a daemon to pop out at any minute.

“I-I’m sorry,” Noct said, shaking his head and forcing a smile. “Just a little distracted tonight.” He adjusted his hand against her waist, making sure it was still at an appropriate height—perhaps even a little higher than necessary, for the sake of his own comfort _and_ Prompto’s.

“Don’t be nervous, Your Highness. Just let yourself enjoy this dance,” the girl in his arms whispered, eyelashes fluttering seductively.

“Uh...” Noct stammered, less than eloquently. He honestly couldn’t even remember _who_ he was dancing with at the moment. The daughter of _some duke_ from _somewhere._  
  
His eyes flickered to the door again, where yet another noblewoman stood. The guard at the door announced her name, and she entered with a curtsy, heading for one of the seats along the wall where she could wait her turn for a dance.

Noctis’ mind continued to panic. What if their plan had been foiled before Prompto had even made it to the ballroom? What if the guards had caught him? What if _Ignis_ had caught him? That would surely lead to some serious interrogation. Just when he was about to make a break for it and scour the palace for his friend, a head of familiar blond hair appeared in the doorway.

“I present to you, Viscount Narius of Tenebrae,” the guard announced, and Noctis’ arms dropped from the girl’s hand and waist as if they’d burned him. The young woman made a squawk of disapproval, but it did little good. Noct walked away without another thought.  
  
He could feel all eyes on him as he made his way towards the entry, ignoring the wall full of ladies waiting for his attention. When he reached his destination, he bowed and offered his hand to a very nervous-looking Prompto.

“May I have this dance?”  
  
Prompto managed a nod, forgetting all of the formalities they had practiced together, and simply taking Noctis’ hand as he was led to the dance floor. The next part was easy—moving in close, hand-in-hand, and hands on waists. Prompto caught sight of Noctis’ father out of the corner of his eye, recognizing him easily from all those times he’d seen him on television. He was standing near the musicians, leaning slightly forward on his cane, green eyes watching with piqued interest.

“Your dad—”

“Relax. We’re fine,” Noctis murmured as they moved together, stepping carefully to the beat of the waltz. Prompto forced himself to relax, and tried to remember the image he was trying to portray—strong, confident, composed. He was a noble; he was good enough for this prince.

As they danced, however, his confidence waned. Prompto caught sight of a lot of confused faces, a lot of hands over mouths as people whispered, a lot of scrutinizing glances and flashes of cameras.

“Noct—”  
  
“We’re fine,” Noct tried once again to assure him. He coaxed Prompto in a little closer, and although Prompto wanted to be comforted by the warm and gentle hand on his back, he couldn’t be. What were all those people saying about them? What were they thinking? How long before they figured out his secret?

Finally, the song ended, and there was a soft—perhaps even apprehensive—round of applause as they parted. Noctis kept Prompto’s hand within his own as he led him to the buffet table, away from the middle of the room where they had been the obvious centre of attention. Prompto was finally able to let himself breathe, at least a little. Another song began, and—perhaps under orders from the king—Ignis stepped in to offer a lady a dance, diverting the attention from the prince and his partner for now.  
  
“Want something to eat?” Noct asked, eyes meeting Prompto’s as casually as if they were back at his apartment. But they weren’t; they were so very far from there.

“Um, don’t think I could get anything down if I tried,” Prompto admitted.  
  
Just as he’d feared, he and Noctis were immediately swarmed by a group of people. It was mostly reporters, Prompto figured, judging by the cameras and microphones many held in their hands. A few girls in ballgowns also stood by looking rather unimpressed.

“Prince Noctis? Could you answer a few questions?”

“Prince Noctis, is this your first dance with another man?”

“Viscount Narius, is this your first time meeting Prince Noctis?”

“Please, give them some room to breathe,” King Regis announced, approaching the group, and waving the reporters off. They didn’t retreat until the large and muscular Gladiolus appeared behind him with folded arms.

“Y-yes, Your Majesty,” came a fearful, unified response, and the group scattered. With the way now clear, Regis made his way toward the couple, and made a point of giving the boy in the elegant blue suit a warm smile. Gladio gave him a stern once-over before wandering away.

“I’ve not seen Noctis so engaged in a dance in ages. It was nice to see him smile for once,” Regis gleamed, and Noctis rolled his eyes.  
  
Prompto didn’t know how to respond, but thankfully he didn’t have to, as a man he didn’t know politely asked the king for a moment of his time, whisking him away as quickly as he had come. Prompto let out another breath of relief.

“Relax, okay? You’re doing great,” Noct encouraged. “Just act natural. Talk to me.”

“Oh, uh, okay. How... how are you _faring_ in these... fine parts of Lucis, Prince Noctis?” Prompto tried, and Noctis stifled a laugh, eyes wide and jovial.

“I said act ‘natural’.”

“Well, I don’t know how to do that. Too many people around,” Prompto shrugged nervously, teeth gritted. Noctis reached for one of the appetizers on the buffet table and popped it into his mouth, eyes widening further when he noticed a noblewoman approaching; he vaguely remembered dancing with her earlier in the evening.

“So, where did they say you were from again?” the girl asked, fanning herself as she leaned against the table, watching Prompto with scrutinizing eyes.

“A-accordo?” Prompto tried, only to receive a sharp jab in the side from Noctis. “I mean, Tenebrae. Yep, lived in Tenebrae my whole life.” He gave a nervous laugh, but it was apparent from the look on her face that the girl wasn’t buying his story.

“Really,” she mused. “Because I’ve also lived in Tenebrae my whole life, and I’ve never heard of any Viscount Narius.”

“Oh, r-really?” Prompto could feel the colour draining from his face. It was over. For all the efforts they had gone through to get him here, he had blown it already.

“That’s because their identity was kept a secret for their own safety,” came another female voice, the Tenebraen accent and eloquent speech none other than the Lady Lunafreya’s herself.

“Luna,” Noct marvelled, wide-eyed. He watched as she approached, hands clasped in front of her, looking as elegant as ever, unruffled by the conversation. She addressed the other woman firmly, but maintained a smile.

“The Narius family line was once so prestigious, many were threatened by their wealth and influential status. The Tenebraen council made a strong effort to protect them until the assassination threats against them had passed. Even now, decades later, the Narius family tends to keep a low profile. I am truly glad you were able to attend this evening, Viscount Narius. It is an honour to finally meet you in person,” Luna said, clutching the sides of her pale blue gown and giving him a curtsy.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” Prompto stuttered out. The irritated noblewoman walked away, clearly unimpressed with being proven wrong by the Oracle.  
  
Luna smiled at the two, her eyes kind. Prompto had dreamt of meeting her for so long, and there was so much he had planned to say. He’d wanted to thank her for her letter that made him introduce himself to Noctis. He’d wanted to ask if her sweet little dog was still doing well. Now, none of those words seemed to want to exit his mouth; he was still rattled from the stress of the crowd, and was shaking like a leaf.

“Hey, Luna... Thanks for covering,” Noct murmured.

“You looked like you were distressed. I assumed you might need some assistance.”

“Yeah. ’Preciate it.”  
  
No sooner had Noctis spoken than they were yet again approached by a reporter, this one advancing with tentative steps, a camera slung around her neck.

“Prince Noctis, I wonder if I might ask you a couple of questions?”

“Yeah, just keep it short,” Noct said, seeming quite nonchalant.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching into her pocket for her audio recorder. Luna gave a nod at Noctis and Prompto to dismiss herself, as the reporter pressed the record button. She lifted the device, holding it directly between herself and the prince.

“Prince Noctis, is this the first time you’ve met Viscount Narius?”  
  
“Well, no. We met as kids in Tenebrae when I visited with my dad. We stayed in touch over the years, but this is the first time I’ve seen him in person since that visit.”  
  
“And how long ago was that?”

“Probably about ten years now.”

“So, was the dance you two shared tonight something that was planned, or—?”  
  
“Uh, no, that was kind of just a pleasant surprise.”

“And do you think your kingdom will support such a relationship as this, were you two to pursue a courtship?”

“I don’t see why not. This man here has made a lot of great accomplishments in his life. He works with the Tenebraen council, and helps with a lot of judicial decisions. With Niflheim’s current custody of the Nox Fleuret family, he’s quite vital to the stability of Tenebrae as a nation. As a prince, I would be honoured to court someone of such high social standing.”

Prompto cringed at the words, at each lie as it poured effortlessly from Noctis’ mouth. Works on the council? Makes judicial decisions? Is of high social standing? He was the exact opposite of what Noctis was talking him up to be. He barely knew what ‘judicial decisions’ meant. If he was asked to elaborate on his position, he wouldn’t have a clue what to say. The only real knowledge he had about _anything_ was regarding the LOKTON LX-X1R camera model slung around the reporter’s neck.

He was nothing more than a commoner, a dirty secret, something that came from Niflheim— _enemy_ —territory. He was just Prompto, the boy who struggled to control his weight, had to survive without the support of his parents, and barely passed his courses in school. His actual identity was something Noctis had swept under the rug, something he didn’t want the rest of the world to see. If a viscount was really what Noct wanted him to be, even if only in the eyes of the media, then maybe this relationship really wasn’t a good fit. Prompto couldn’t live his life under the cover of a lie. It hurt too much. Even if he didn’t think a lot of himself, he wanted to believe he was worth more than this—that he _deserved_ more than this.

Without thinking, Prompto felt his weak legs urging him to get out of there as fast as they could, and he was barrelling out the door of the ballroom within seconds.

“Prompto!” Noct called, startled by his impulsive departure. “I’m sorry, I have to—” Noct apologized to the reporter, backing away with his thumb pointing towards the door. He took off at a run, hurrying through the corridors, but Prompto was nowhere in sight. He supposed it was only natural that Prompto would have the advantage when it came to running; he’d had a lot more practice.

Still, Noct urged his body to move as fast as he could, and when he saw the main doors of the Citadel slowly closing, he warped forward, quick enough to exit and catch Prompto’s arm before he could start down the long stretch of steps.

“Let me go, Noct,” Prompto protested, trying to yank his arm free, but Noctis’ grip was tight.

“Please, can we just talk?”  
  
“I’m tired of all the talk! Listening to you go on and on about how great Viscount Narius is? That’s not me, Noct. I’m nothing, okay?”

When Prompto finally turned to face Noctis, his face was red and blotchy, embarrassed beyond belief or on the verge of tears. Noctis didn’t bother to decide which one it was; he merely loosened his grasp. His hands moved to Prompto’s shoulders, thumbs moving to soothe him, but it didn’t do much good.

“You’re not nothing,” Noctis told him, eyes gentle, but determined. “You’re _everything_. To me, at least.”

“I’m not,” Prompto shook his head, gaze falling toward the ground. Now, tears were glimmering under the lantern lights of the Citadel. “This whole thing was stupid. Who did we really think we were going to fool? That girl in there figured me out in, like, ten seconds. If it wasn’t for Lady Lunafreya, we would have been toast!”

“Prompto, focus. Remember, the point wasn’t to fool people. It was for you to make a grand entrance, for my dad to see us together, and for everyone to see the potential for what you could be.”

“What I _could be_?” Prompto asked, daring a glance up at Noctis, who could tell by the damaged look in his eyes that he had said something wrong. Noct bit his bottom lip, trying to figure out how he had crossed the line. His eyes held so much worry, so much regret.

“So, even if this worked and we stayed together, I’d still have to change?” Prompto asked.

“No, that’s not what I—” Noct started, but Prompto was already imagining all the etiquette lessons and the history books he would have to study just to earn his place beside Noctis. Even if he was good enough for Noct, he wasn’t yet good enough for the rest of the people in the prince’s world. The mere idea of it all made him even more panicked.

“Prompto, being with me... It’s not always going to be easy, because there are always going to be eyes on us. There’s always gonna be something I have to do that I don’t necessarily want to, and I’m sorry, but I can’t change that. I just hope... that’s not enough to scare you off.”

“This isn’t about your duties or whatever. I get that you’re gonna have to go to balls and do interviews and stuff, but if I have to pretend to be something I’m not... If I have to change everything I am to be someone worthy of your attention, then... I don’t think I can do this with you.” Prompto stepped back out of Noctis’ touch. The prince’s expression was pained.

“Prompto—”

“I changed for you once already. I don’t think I can do it again.”

“Prompto, you didn’t need to change. I would have been your friend back when we were kids if you’d just _talked_ to me,” Noct said, voice and eyes pleading.  
  
“I’m gonna go home now, before my stomach medicine wears off and I end up embarrassing myself even more.”

“Prom, please...”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Prompto, wait, can I at least drive you home?” Noct asked, reaching out for his hand, but Prompto stepped back again, avoiding his touch. He reached for the buttons of his jacket, one-handedly undoing them.

“No. I think I’ll walk,” Prompto said, solemnly, shrugging the jacket off of himself and handing it to Noctis, leaving him only in his white dress shirt. The coat was rightfully Noct’s anyway—not like Prompto could have afforded it on his own.

“Prompto!” Noctis called, watching with desperate, devastated eyes as Prompto trotted down the long stairway from the Citadel and toward the gate at the other end of the circular courtyard, appearing as only a small speck in the black night.

Noctis clutched the jacket tightly in his hand, absently bringing it toward his chest and holding it there against his heart. His fingers brushed over the velvety fabric, still warm from his boyfriend’s body.

“Prompto...” he whispered into the darkness. The creak of the large door behind him was startling, and Noctis whipped around to see who had found him. There stood Ignis, expression as stoic as ever, but his eyes held something else. Concern, perhaps? Sympathy?

“Noct, your father requests that you return to the ballroom as soon as possible.”

“T’yeah. ‘Course,” Noct uttered, numbly, before following Ignis back inside.

* * *

Noctis wasn’t quite sure how he’d survived the rest of the evening, with his heart in his throat the whole time, and the stabbing pain of guilt that made him feel like his chest was on fire. He’d spent the remainder of his time in the ballroom being pressured to dance with young women, and texting Prompto with ‘I’m sorry’ messages in every spare moment he had. Twenty-one messages had been sent; Prompto hadn’t replied to any of them.

Once the event came to a close, and Noctis was finally excused for the night, he retreated to his room to change into his most comfortable jeans and sweatshirt. He turned off the lights in his bedroom, and proceeded to the window, lifting it open and crouching on the sill, scanning for his first optimal warping point. He managed to make his way down, warping to small protruding ledges on the side of the building, before proceeding to a lamp-post, and then to the entrance gates. He climbed over and dropped down, rolling to protect his ankles from the brunt of the fall, then he took off at a run.  
  
He was exhausted by the time he made it to Prompto’s. His heart sank when he knocked several times, and no one came to the door. What if Prompto hadn’t come home? What if he was in trouble? Or what if he had hit up a bar somewhere to dull the ache with something—or _someone—_ after what had happened at the Citadel? No, he wouldn’t do that. They hadn’t really broken up, right?  
  
Refusing to rest until he was sure Prompto was safe and sound, Noctis crept around the side of the house, finding Prompto’s window, and tapping on it gently. Prompto appeared after only a few attempts, staring at Noct with uncertainty as he unlatched the window and let him in.

“What are you doing here, Noct? It’s late,” he groaned, returning to his bed adjacent to the glass pane. He collapsed on the mattress, still barely awake. Noctis clambered into the room and closed the window behind him before tentatively seating himself on the edge of Prompto’s bed.

“I couldn’t just leave things like that. I had to make sure you were okay. Did you get my texts?”

“Turned my phone off, so I could sleep,” Prompto said, draping an arm over his forehead, closing his eyes. Noct glanced at the phone on the nightstand, its screen black and empty.

“You didn’t answer the question,” Noct mumbled, trying not to sound _too_ accusing.  
  
He glanced back at Prompto, and courageously swung his legs onto the bed, lying down next to him. Prompto briefly lifted his arm to glance at the prince before closing his eyes again, mouth stiff. Noctis lay an arm over his waist, thumb brushing gently against his side.  
  
“I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things you said. I can understand why you took off. All that stuff I said to the reporter... You’re right, it wasn’t fair to you when I made up all those lies,” Noctis murmured. Prompto rolled onto his side, away from him. Noct maintained his gentle hold on his waist, fingers graceful and tender as they traced circles against the front of his t-shirt.

“I’m _so_ sorry about tonight, Prompto. Of all the people in the world to make you feel like you weren’t good enough, like you needed to change or be someone else... I just... I _never_ wanted to be that person. Please, forgive me,” Noctis breathed, eyes teary as he stared at Prompto—Prompto who barely wanted to acknowledge his existence right now. Prompto’s knees curled up toward his chest, his shoulders hunching forward, making him look so small.

“Then why did you do it?” he asked, weakly. Noctis perked up a little. At least he was talking. That was good, right?

“Well, I guess it seemed like a good idea at the beginning, and once we’d gone so far with the outfit and everything, the most logical thing to do was follow through. I just wished I’d realized sooner how much I was hurting you, because that’s the last thing I ever want to do.”

Prompto stared straight ahead, to where his cork-board was nailed to the wall. Numerous photos that Prompto had taken himself were pinned to the board with coloured thumb-tacks. It was almost painful to look at them now—so many were of him and Noctis, smiling, happy, carefree, before he’d known just how wrong he was for this prince. He stared at one photo in particular, of the two of them with their arms around each other in the arcade. He wished he could go back to that day, and break his own heart before they ever got the chance to get in so deep with one another. He wished he could have stopped himself from falling in love with Noctis.

“My dad didn’t seem upset when he saw us together. That’s good, at least,” Noctis said, hoping it might brighten Prompto’s spirits a little.

“Yeah, except he doesn’t know the truth about me yet,” Prompto mumbled.

“No, not yet, but I’m gonna talk to him, and he’ll set everything straight. Not just with us, but with the press, too.”

“I don’t want your dad to have to clean up the mess I made.”

“It was _my_ idea, Prompto. I’ll make sure you don’t get the blame for this.”

“Can you just go? Please?” Prompto asked, voice meek as he turned to glance back at the prince. “I really don’t want to talk about this tonight.”

“W-we don’t _have_ to talk,” Noct said, feeling the sting of rejection, but he was sure it was nothing compared to what he had put Prompto through tonight. “We can just lie here. Sleep.”

“Honestly, I’d rather be alone tonight,” came Prompto’s reply, a perturbed frown on his face as he turned back toward the wall. Noctis hesitated a moment before leaning in to kiss Prompto’s hair. When he wasn’t told to stop, he tried another, and another, until Prompto shoved an elbow back, forcing him away.

“Noct, please! Just go,” Prompto begged, chin trembling as he stared at the other boy. Finally, Noctis slowly unlaced himself from Prompto’s body. Relieved, Prompto lay back down on his side, and Noctis headed for the window. While he could have just used the door at this point, he figured this would give him a quicker exit.

“Okay,” the prince softly obliged, lifting up the glass, and hoisting a leg up and over the sill. “Sleep well, alright? I’ll check in with you in the morning.”  
  
Prompto didn’t roll back over until he heard the window click shut, then he got up to lock it. His gaze lingered on the figure outside as it moved through the foggy night, watching the prince’s dark form until it disappeared from sight. He missed his warmth already, but he also hadn’t forgotten the feelings of humiliation that Noctis had caused him over the past few weeks. Should he sever their ties for good, or give Noct another chance? That decision would hopefully become a lot easier once he had some rest.

* * *

Noctis hoisted himself up onto the window sill, his bad leg protesting a little as he clambered into his room and landed unceremoniously on the floor. He looked up with surprise to see his father standing before him, his eyes—which he’d half-expected to be scolding—full of concern.

“Hey,” Noct said, simply, gathering himself from the floor and dusting himself off. He headed for his dresser to choose some pyjamas for himself, casually, as if he _hadn’t_ just been caught sneaking out.

“Noctis,” Regis addressed. “I think we should talk about this evening.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Noctis.”  
  
Noct turned at the tone of his father’s voice, the tone that implied there was no getting out of this discussion. He met his gaze timidly at first, a mere glance out of the corner of his eye before Regis sat down on the end of his bed, patting the spot on the comforter beside him. Noctis heaved a sigh, but obliged, hands clutching his knees tightly as he perched himself on the edge of the mattress.

“Who was that young man this evening? And please be honest with me.”

“He’s... just a guy from school.”

“Is that all?” Regis asked.

“Well,” Noct hesitated. Of course, Prompto had been so much more than that, but after tonight... he wasn’t sure if he’d ever hear from him again. “He and I... It’s complicated.” He awkwardly reached for the back of his head, ruffling his hair—a nervous habit of his.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you looked happier than I’d seen you in a while. Most people can’t get a real smile out of you, which makes me wonder if this young man is something more than a friend.”

“Dad,” Noct rolled his eyes. When they came back down, they rested on the floor, nowhere near his father’s watchful gaze. Regis reached for his son’s hand where it rested atop his leg; he could feel the tension in Noct’s hand, the contracting muscles that had a death grip on his kneecap.

“Son, I’m never going to be angry with you for being honest, or for being true to yourself.”  
  
Noct dared a glance at his father. He hated this conversation—hated the burning of his ears and face, hated the way his leg had begun to bounce out of nervousness. But he also hated where his lies had gotten him—how they had hurt Prompto, how they had made him look like a naive fool trying to please the most intelligent diplomats, even if only for an evening.

“It all started a few weeks ago when Ignis told me about the ball,” Noct announced, figuring it was the easiest place to start. “I asked him if I could hypothetically bring a friend, and he said yes.”  
  
“Of course,” Regis nodded, remembering the conversation he’d had with Noctis’ advisor days ago. “Ignis said you might be inviting a friend from school. I was expecting it. You had permission to bring him as he was, so why the disguise?”  
  
“Because Ignis also said that it was probably more acceptable if I were to court someone of higher status. So, I came up with the brilliant idea of dressing up Prompto—that’s his name—like a noble so we could impress you. You know, so that you might take us seriously.”

“Take you seriously? In what way?” Regis asked, both his slightly furrowed brows and genuinely curious eyes looking particularly inquisitive. Noctis fidgeted uncomfortably on the edge of the bed; if he did that much more, he might slide right off.

“Look, he’s important to me, okay? We were sort of... involved. I thought if he looked the part, and made some grand, flashy entrance that impressed everyone, it might make _you_ see him as more than just a commoner, so that you might consider he could be good enough for me. But it was stupid, and because of it... I don’t know, I’ve probably lost him.”

“Noctis,” Regis murmured, patting Noctis’ hand gently before coming to grip it with both of his own. “I understand you must have been fearful because of the pressures on you to start considering a courtship with someone, but I want you to know, you could have come to me with this first. You can always talk to me.”

“Yeah, I know, but I’m not exactly a fan of heart-to-hearts,” Noct said, tilting his head away from his father, more out of embarrassment than anything. Regis wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that remark, but he felt the desperate need to keep the conversation going.

“You may find this amusing, but I know just about every trick in the book. I didn’t always enjoy going to balls and dancing with women I didn’t know either. In fact, I invited Aulea to her first ball under similar circumstances to you and Prompto.”

“Huh? Are you serious? What, you dressed Mom up like a princess?” Noct gaped.

“And she blew the crowd away,” Regis smiled, fondly, eyes gleaming as he met his son’s gaze. Noctis quickly looked away again.

“And she didn’t hate you for it?”  
  
“Why do you think Prompto hates you?” Regis calmly quizzed.

“Because I shoved him into my closet to hide him from Ignis, I forced him to wear some suit I’m not even sure he liked, and I made up this whole identity for him because _I_ was scared. I was scared I would lose him if people didn’t approve of our relationship, and now the whole thing backfired, because I ended up losing him anyway. I went to his place tonight, and he told me to leave,” Noct grimaced.  
  
He got up from the bed, freeing himself of his father’s grasp, and stretching his arms above his head, as if his last confession wasn’t bothering him; Regis didn’t buy that at all. Noctis strolled over to his dresser again, trying for a second time to pick out some sleepwear, but his mind wasn’t currently in decision-mode, and he could still feel his dad’s watchful eyes on him.

“Apologies can go a long way, if done correctly,” Regis offered.

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem. Apparently, I suck at apologies, because he didn’t want to hear anything I had to say,” Noct frowned, staring blankly into the drawer where flannel pants and silk shirts lay neatly folded in a line—courtesy of Ignis.

“Give him some time to digest it all. One’s first ball is always a stressful ordeal,” the king reminded him, and Noct shrugged, considering. He had certainly hated _his_ first ball, and Prompto _had_ been through a lot today. Maybe they would both have some clarity by the time morning rolled around.

“So, this Prompto Argentum... How long have you known he was special to you?” Regis asked, voice calm and caring.  
  
Noct debated. He’d known he wasn’t into girls for years now, but his attraction for Prompto in particular had been a more recent development. Part of him couldn’t believe he and his father were having this conversation—this conversation that they probably should have had a while ago—but it was undeniably freeing as well, to be heard and accepted and still loved beyond belief.

“Months. Probably close to a year now. Wait— How did you know his last name was—?” Noct turned to gape at his dad again, who chuckled softly, mild amusement gleaming in his eyes.

“I’ve known of Prompto since he arrived in Lucis over seventeen years ago.”

“How?” Noct asked, watching his father curiously now, eyes wide.

“I was involved in the decision to allow him to stay here in Lucis. He was rescued from Niflheim by one of our own troops, and since then, the council has kept tabs on him, merely to ensure his safety and to make sure he is doing well here.”  
  
Noct wondered what that meant, wondered if that meant his father feared the Niffs would come looking for him, but that was a conversation for another day. He was too tired to get into such matters tonight.

“So... you know he’s from Niflheim,” Noctis repeated, watching his father warily out of the corner of his eye. His words came out cautiously, even though the answer to that question had already been made evident.

“I do.”

“And that’s _okay_ with you?”

“Well, I hardly see him as a threat. He’s spent the majority of his life here, and there’s been no evidence that he has any drive to betray us.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Noct assured him, lowering his gaze again. “Prompto wouldn’t hurt a damn fly.”

“It sounds like you know him well,” Regis smiled. Noct rubbed his face in exhaustion.  
  
He knew better than anyone Prompto’s struggle with self-esteem, his fears of not being worthy. And what had he done? He’d given the impression that Prompto _should_ be ashamed of himself, that he _wasn’t_ worthy of a prince’s love.

“Yeah. I know him so well, I should have realized how much tonight would hurt him,” Noctis started, swallowing hard. “He doesn’t think a lot of himself, so for me to make him into something he wasn’t... for me to lie, and make up this whole story of his life... I broke his trust, big time,” Noct rambled, more to himself than his father.  
  
It was the first time he’d been able to even organize his thoughts about the whole evening. Why couldn’t these words have come to him when he was at Prompto’s house? Why didn’t he know how to apologize?

“I’m sorry if this whole night is going to cause a nightmare with the press. It won’t happen again,” Noct assured his father, grabbing the first pair of pyjamas his hand landed on and tossing them toward the bed. He followed after the ensemble, perching himself on the end of the bed again, gaze fixed on the carpet.

“Don’t worry about the press, Noctis,” Regis said, waving a hand. “I will handle it. All I’m really concerned about is whether you’re really alright.” Noctis let out a bitter chuckle, and slumped forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“No. But I will be. Just need some sleep.”

“Before you do, may I say one more thing?”

“Guess so,” Noct sighed.  
  
“If Prompto is someone you wish to have in your life, please, tell me so that I can start finding ways to make this work.”

“Huh?” Noct frowned, tilting his head towards the king, clearly confused.  
  
This was what he’d wanted from the beginning, but he’d never imagined it would be so simple. All he’d had to do was be truthful about his feelings. If his father was _offering_ _this_ , offering to make this relationship work for him and Prompto, did that mean he hadn’t needed his stupid ‘noble-ruse’ in the first place?

“I don’t care where he’s from, or whether he’s of common status. I simply want you to be happy, Noctis,” Regis murmured, eyes slanting with concern but also with a deep love.  
  
He tried to keep images of Noctis’ prophesized destiny out of his head, but his mind always seemed to go back in that direction. If Noct was to one day sacrifice himself for his people, he deserved every opportunity for joy and love and kindness that he could get out of life. Regis would never be the one to stand in the way of that.

“You _don’t mind_ if I date Prompto?” Noctis queried, eyes wandering warily to view his father side-on.

“I don’t mind,” Regis promised, reaching for his son’s hand again. This time, Noctis didn’t mind the contact nearly so much. It didn’t make him feel like he would wriggle out of his own skin in embarrassment.

“I thought I was responsible for continuing the Lucian line,” Noct said.

“And that’s something we’ll discuss later on, if necessary. Certainly no need to rush.”

Noctis suddenly felt like he could breathe easier, like he was a prisoner just set free. Regis patted his hand again and smiled before collecting himself from the bed. He turned to press a kiss to the top of his son’s head, and Noctis accepted it, feeling so grateful in that moment to have such a kind and compassionate father.

“Get some sleep, son,” the king murmured, and for the first time all evening, Noctis thought he might just rest easy.

* * *

Noctis was at Prompto’s house bright and early the next morning, a brown paper bag in hand when Prompto opened the door. Noctis held it up, greeting the dishevelled and tired-looking Prompto with a smile.

“I brought bagels. Can I come in?”  
  
Prompto hesitated. He was still in his chocobo-covered pyjama pants and a tank top that was wrinkled from sleep, and he was pretty sure his hair was a mess, but hey, apparently he was up to the prince’s standards today. Prompto pushed the door open and stepped aside allowing Noctis to enter.

“Thanks,” Noct said, smile unfaltering.

They made their way to the kitchen table, where Prompto poured up a couple of glasses of milk and Noct began digging the bagels and tiny butter packets out of the bag. Prompto set the milk down on the table and plopped himself down in the chair across from Noctis, yawning as Noctis passed him his bagel wrapped in a white paper sleeve.

“I know the blueberry ones are your favourite,” Noct said, with a small shrug. His expression was one seeking forgiveness, and Prompto knew he was fishing for it, but he wasn’t quite ready to let him reel him in again.

“Yeah, they are. Thanks,” he said anyway, though his voice was dull and exhausted.

“No problem.”

They started in on their breakfast, Prompto nibbling tiny bites while Noctis ate like he would never be fed again. He needed all the energy he could get if he was going to make a proper apology. Once his bagel was gone, he brought his eyes up to meet Prompto’s, who only met his gaze for a second before fluttering away.

“Prompto, I know you’re still upset about _everything_ I put you through lately. You have every right to be,” Noct announced. “I never should have hidden you from Ignis. I never should have forced you to go to that ball in disguise. And I’m so, so sorry.” Prompto gave him a wary glance over the top of his bagel.

“It’s fine, Noct.”

“No, it’s not. I need you to know that... I was so proud when you started to feel at home in my apartment. I was happy being able to give you a place where you could be yourself, where we could hang out together and everything was easy between us all the time. And I took all of that away from you. I made you feel like you weren’t good enough for this prince, and that’s... that’s not what I wanted to do at all.”  
  
“It’s okay.”

“I’m not done,” Noct said, frowning slightly, and Prompto watched him with a bit more intrigue now. He wasn’t used to Noct speaking so much, especially when it came to his feelings. “Part of me was scared I would never get the chance to love you if the Crown or the public knew about us. I was terrified that my dad or the council would tear us apart. But I was selfish. I only went through with that stupid plan because the last thing I wanted to do was lose you.”  
  
There was so much emotion in Noct’s eyes, so much that even Noct himself knew it was there. He lowered his head in embarrassment. Between this conversation and the one he’d had with his dad the night before, he was sure he’d now had his fill of heart-to-hearts for the year. After a few long seconds, the silence was broken.

“And I went along with it. Because I didn’t want to lose you, either,” Prompto spoke up, drawing Noctis’ attention to him. He set his bagel down so he could concentrate on the prince’s reaction. Noctis smiled and reached across the table, finding Prompto’s hand and clutching it within his own.

“Then let’s be together, okay? Because I _love_ you, Prompto.”  
  
“You what?” Prompto gaped, eyes wide like a sparkling, round gil.  
  
Noctis’ expression looked nearly as shocked as Prompto’s as he backtracked. Did he really just say that? Out loud? The answer was written on Prompto’s face, and it screamed yes. He supposed that was okay. It wasn’t like he wanted to take it back.

“I love you,” Noct repeated, voice shaking, thanks to the adrenaline now coursing through him. “And I don’t want you to change a thing.”  
  
Prompto’s love for videogames, his playfulness and quick wit, his optimism and smiles, his ability to calm Noctis’ frayed nerves, his kisses that were reserved only for him... Those were the things that were important, and Noctis would spend the rest of his life making sure Prompto knew that. He loved Prompto. He loved him right now, unshowered with his bed hair and vibrant pyjamas. He loved him.

Even without saying anything more, Prompto seemed to understand the thoughts in his head, and he appeared thankful, tearful, as he squeezed Noctis’ hand in return.

“I love you, too,” he said, watching as Noct’s smile grew. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for months, but I never told you because of... Well, _all_ of this. I’m scared, Noct. What will everyone think if we stay together? I’m still not royal material.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Noct said, looking down to search his pocket. Prompto eased himself up a little bit in his chair, trying to peer across the table at what he was doing. A few seconds later, a black card set in a plastic tag was pushed across the table towards him.

“What’s this?” Prompto quizzed, picking up the tag, his questioning gaze darting between it and his companion.

“I talked to my dad, and everything’s cool. That tag will get you into the Citadel, so you can visit me anytime. Consider yourself a VIP,” Noct explained, with a smirk.

“What? Really?” Prompto blinked, the piece of plastic suddenly feeling like gold in his hands.

“Yeah.”

“What about me being from Niflheim?”

“He doesn’t care.”

“What about you carrying on the Lucian line?”

“Not an issue right now.”

“What about—“  
  
“Will you stop?” Noct rolled his eyes, before hopping up from his seat and playfully making his way to the other side of the table. He leaned against it, back and hands resting against the edge, gaze locked on Prompto.

“We’re in the clear, Prom. I’m allowed to date you exactly the way you are, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Noct promised.

“You’re sure?” Prompto lifted a brow.

“Of course, I’m sure.”

Prompto got up from his seat, looping his arms around Noctis’ neck as he pressed a kiss to his warm, soft lips. He felt hands on his waist, pulling their bodies together, the warmth rather enticing. He blinked slowly and contentedly as the kiss ended.

“I’m sure this goes without saying, but I’ve decided to forgive you,” Prompto smiled.

“Oh yeah? ‘Cause I’m too irresistible?” Noct asked, with a seductive stare. Prompto shook his head.

“No, ‘cause I need to kick _someone’s_ ass at that chocobo racing game. Might as well be yours.”

“You’re on,” Noctis beamed.  
  


* * *

**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun participating in the Promptis Big Bang this year! I am so happy that I got to write something so fun for my precious boys, and I want to thank the mods for doing such a great job of seeing this project to completion, while constantly showing such dedication! I'm honoured to have been a part of this!
> 
> Artwork for my fic was done by [softpining](https://twitter.com/softpining). I ended up commissioning her and I am absolutely THRILLED with the result! Thank you so much, bestie!!! You are amazing, and I am so happy to have a piece of art to represent my story!


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